Lives Entwined
by Fergus Mason
Summary: The Swallows and Amazons - and some others - look back on what they've done, and look forward to the future.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The usual disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, any of the boats or the Lake.**

The good ship _Swallow_ stood out past the peak of Darien and turned south towards Wild Cat Island. There was a steady north wind blowing down the lake, so _Swallow_ could run easily down with her brown sail out to one side. John, sitting at her tiller, thought that was just as well; with the four of them and their camping things _Swallow_ rode very low in the water, and he would just as soon not have her heeling over too much.

He smiled to himself as he remembered their first voyage to the island, five years ago. Then, Roger had acted as lookout, sitting before the mast. There was no chance of him fitting in there now; instead the space was filled with bags and boxes of food, and Roger sat amidships with Titty, Susan, Polly the parrot and their bundled tents and equipment. It was becoming a tight fit, and even then there had been too little space for everything. Mother had promised to visit them later in the afternoon, and she would be bringing their haybag mattresses and sleeping bags with her in Mr Jackson's rowing boat.

_Swallow_ sailed on, Houseboat Bay opening up on her port bow. The long hull of the houseboat lay at her mooring buoy, the red ensign fluttering from her mast. There was no sign of Captain Flint, but no doubt they'd be seeing him before long. It seemed so long ago that he'd been "the houseboat man," an enemy who had tried to ruin their first holiday on the island. How quickly he had turned into a firm ally and friend! Despite his age, he had a bubbling enthusiasm for fun and life and the practical knowledge to quickly turn vague plans into reality.

Houseboat Bay fell behind them, and _Swallow_ slipped into the channel between Wild Cat Island and the shore. The tall lighthouse tree stood high above them; now John was counting down towards the moment he would steer for the island. And here it was; he put the helm over and hauled in the sheet, and _Swallow_'s bows swung to starboard. As she straightened up on her new course John began giving his orders to his crew. "Susan, cast off the halyard and prepare to lower sail. Roger, stand by to go ashore and secure the ship. Titty, you catch the boom as the sail comes down; we don't want to knock Polly overboard."

The crew chorused "Aye Aye, Sir" and moved quickly to carry out their orders. _Swallow_ was already slowing as she ran in towards the landing place, the trees of the island stealing much of her wind. A few seconds more and... "Lower away!" Susan immediately began paying out the halyard, and the sail came down. More way came off, the chuckle of water from for'ard dying away, but they still had speed enough.

The stem crunched on sand and Roger leapt over the side onto dry land. He immediately seized _Swallow's_ bow and hauled her a couple of feet further up the beach, making sure that she wouldn't float off as soon as the weight of her crew was removed. Once more, and for their last holiday as a complete crew, the Swallows had made landfall on Wild Cat Island.

Once the shipwas unloaded and the island was re-colonised, of course, there was lots of work to do. Susan set Titty and Roger to work putting up the tents, while John shouldered his knapsack and rowed _Swallow_ round to the harbour. He returned in a little while and set to collecting the deadwood knocked from the trees by the winter's storms. They would still have to make a voyage to the mainland to collect more, of course, but the island managed to provide enough for at least three days. Susan herself cleared and tidied the fireplace, before starting a fire and setting the kettle over it. Camping was hard work that couldn't be done without tea. So it was that when Mother arrived the camp was almost ready to live in, awaiting only the supplies carried in her Native trading canoe.

But before that came the Amazon Pirates.

Susan had given her work party a tea break, which Roger had chosen to spend at the lookout place below the lighthouse tree. He was idly watching a steamer cruise up the lake when he caught a sudden flash of white at the eastern tip of Long Island. He swung the telescope back, and… there! Rounding the island was a little varnished dinghy with a bright white sail, crewed by two girls, one of whom wore a red hat. He watched for a few seconds more to be sure, then stood and trotted back to camp, managing to spill most of his tea on the way.

Susan and John looked up as he approached. "They're coming!" he cried, swerving to avoid a guy rope and spilling his remaining tea, "_Amazon_ just weathered Long Island, they'll be here soon."

John sprang to his feet – surprisingly quickly, Roger thought. "Right, is the camp squared away?" he exclaimed. "Titty… where's Titty? Oh there you are… have you got Polly's feathers for Nancy? Roger, tighten your guy ropes. Let's make sure they know we run a tight ship."

Susan jumped up too, issuing her own orders, and by the time_ Amazon_'s slim bows ran up on the beach the camp was quite the finest that had ever been seen on Wild Cat Island (or indeed anywhere else.) The tents were all neat and tight, groundsheets and spare clothes were laid out inside each one, and the old black kettle was just coming to the boil on the fire.

The Amazons leapt ashore and pulled their ship further up on the pebbles, then headed for where the Swallows stood on the beach. Nancy walked first to John and, after what looked like a second's uncharacteristic indecision, shook hands warmly with him. "Hello John!" she exclaimed happily, "it's so good to see you again!"

They really were growing up, thought John. Last year she'd greeted him with a rousing "Avast there, Captain!" But she really did look as happy to see him as he was to see her, and even if she'd reined in her piratical airs a bit she looked, if anything, more Amazonian than ever. Only two inches short of his own six feet, she was a tall, strong and lithe young woman. He knew from her letters that she had recently won her school's lawn tennis championship, was Captain of the archery team and had been swimming champion for the last three years now, and she looked every inch the athlete. She wore a blue shirt and beige riding breeches, no stockings, and a pair of men's soft leather ankle boots (these, he knew, were antelope-hide _veldskoen_ which her uncle had brought back from South Africa.) Without her old red knitted cap, her dark brown hair fell unrestrained around her shoulders; the wind out on the lake had left it in disarray, but he suspected it usually looked like that anyway.

"Hello Nancy! It's good to see you too. How are you? I was so disappointed that we couldn't meet at Christmas or Easter, but Father was very keen for me to spend some time with him. He's so pleased to have his own flotilla. Four destroyers, and he'll be getting one of the new H Class for his own ship when she's launched next year."

Nancy smiled. "I know, he's been writing to me about… oh, I'll tell you later! Come on, I need to say hello to your crew and I know Peggy's missed you too."

So after handshakes and greetings all round, and of course a work detail to establish Nancy, Peggy and _Amazon_ on the island, the Swallows and Amazons found themselves once more sitting round the old fireplace, drinking tea and sharing out bunloaf and one of Cook's apple pies. Looking around, John thought that the campsite had not changed at all. The same old six tents stood there; the Swallows' four sleeping tents and the stores tent, and the larger tent of the Amazons. The fire was where it always was, fed from the same old woodpile. No, it was the explorers and pirates who showed the passing of the years.

Roger, at twelve, was now as old as John himself had been when they had first come to the lake. Titty was two years older, but still as dreamy and imaginative as ever and showing no inclination to return to her given name of Mavis. Susan was now a confident young woman of 16, formidably organised and efficient; while he himself had recently finished his Higher School Certificate exams, had completed the "school" part of Brittannia Royal Naval College and would be starting sea training in October. As for the Amazons, their piratical airs were greatly reduced (Peggy, he suspected, following Nancy's lead as always) and Nancy in particular was far less of a tomboy than she had once been. That was not to say that she was now a polite and conventional young lady; she was still bursting with energy and enthusiasm, still a hornet's nest of ambitious schemes and still willing to throw herself whole-heartedly into any project that caught her imagination. But she was less inclined than before to join in with fantasies, preferring to keep her plans in the real world.

This wasn't always reassuring; his first meeting with the Amazons had been heralded by an arrow landing in the fire, and Nancy still had a bow with her. Before, however, she had carried a home-made one, fashioned from an elm branch, with which she had shot home-made arrows fletched with feathers from Captain Flint's (now Titty's) parrot. Now she had the bow with which she had dominated her school archery team; a yew longbow, six feet of polished wood, and a quiver of steel-tipped arrows. She had hung a straw target from the Lighthouse Tree and had already promised to teach John how to shoot with the lethal-looking weapon.

For now, though, Swallows and Amazons alike were just happy to be back in the old camp that had been such a major part of all their lives. All of them had learned many lessons here; about teamwork, planning – and friendship.

Talk of school, of the Easter holidays and of plans for the summer quickly ate up the early afternoon, and with no lookout the first warning of Mrs Walker's approach was the gurgle of backing oars as Mr Jackson slowed his rowing boat before grounding. Roger and Titty leapt to their feet and ran to haul the boat up and Mother stepped ashore, smiling at the familiar sight of the camp. "Thanks Titty, Roger. Hello Nancy! My, Peggy, you've grown since Easter. Oh thanks Susan, tea would be very nice. I've some lemonade in the boat though, you can have that later."

Susan stirred milk and sugar into a steaming mug and handed it to her mother. John pulled out a wooden biscuit box for her to sit on. Nancy and Peggy shook her hand, grinning broadly. Roger was helping Mr Jackson unload the rowing boat, and taking the chance to investigate a few of the bags and parcels Mother had brought with her. Mother sipped her tea and looked around at the group.

"I hear you Amazons have a good batch of plans for this summer," she said, "your uncle – or is he still Captain Flint? It's funny, I often think of him as Captain Flint myself, it seems to suit him - said that you're planning a proper regatta when the Callums get here."

Nancy smiled. "Oh yes! Dot has been gushing in her letters about all the sailing they've done this year. They spent Easter on the Broads again, and it seems they won some race there. Well, I thought we should give them a chance to win here." And John saw, in the way her smile broadened, the old wolfish piratical Nancy. Too bad for Dot, he thought.

Captain Flint ran his rowing boat ashore half an hour later. He shipped his oars and wiped a large spotted handkerchief across his face; it was a warm day for rowing, and besides he'd spent several hours in the pub in Rio last night, swapping tall tales of the China seas with that journalist fellow Ransome. Now, though, he was back on Wild Cat Island with his nieces and their – and his – friends. Jim Turner had led a lonely life since the only woman he'd ever loved had died of blackwater fever 18 years ago in Natal, while he'd been a thousand miles away leading a troop of volunteer cavalry against the Germans in Namibia. After the war he'd thrown himself even more furiously into the wanderings that had always drawn him; when there was always a seam of gold or a swathe of new farmland ahead of him, there was no time to look back at the simple cross on the high veldt where Katarina lay in the ground.

And then he'd come home to the lake, and after a year or two he'd decided to write the story of his life. He'd only had the energy to write that story once, and after the manuscript was stolen he'd never have been able to start again. It was a damn good job that Titty and Roger had found it, really… and then he'd realised that his two wildcat nieces, and the friends they'd made, had all the spirit of adventure that had always driven him onwards; so what was he to do but encourage them? He grinned as he hauled his boat up the beach; those six children had put the energy back into his life just as he'd started to fear he'd buried it for ever in South Africa. He rocked the boat with one hand to check that she wouldn't drift away, then fished the bag of beer bottles from the water-filled bait box and went to greet John, the son he'd never had.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know, this is just a short chapter and nothing much happens, but I'm overdue to publish SOMETHING and I hope it's OK for now.**

**Not my characters, not my boats, not my lake.**

"John, I do hope you're not planning on taking _Swallow_ out today, because if you drink any more of that beer I believe you're going to be more than a bit squiffy!"

John smiled tolerantly at his mother. His second bottle was perhaps half empty, and there was a good deal left in the enamel mug he was drinking from. Perhaps Father had never told her how much ale was smuggled into the cadet blocks at the Naval College, and how often glasses of port - sometimes even rum - were handed out on parade to division sportsmen. He well remembered the first whaleboat race he'd taken part in, how helpful the miles he'd rowed _Swallow_ had been, and how his eyes had watered when his winning crew had been handed their half-pint mugs of grog and ordered to down them in one in front of the assembled cadets. It was fine to buy a bottle of lemonade in Rio and call it grog; the real thing - half water, half Navy rum - had been a bit more startling.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Mother, but in any case I've done my sailing for the day. Titty and Roger want to race to the head of the lake and back, and us elders would only get in the way. Oh… I say, Mother, you've had three bottles yourself!"

Mother looked down at the empty bottles and chuckled. "I have, haven't I? Well, in Australia they started us in our cradles. Yes, even the ladies. In any case I'm not a captain. I'm just a passenger. Isn't that right, Mr Jackson?"

Mr Jackson looked up from the pipe bowl he was carving. "Do you say so, Mum?" he said uncertainly. He wasn't a quick thinker and after rowing up from Holly Howe in this heat he'd enjoyed a bottle of Mr Turner's beer himself, although he was drinking tea now. In general he didn't take to the summer people; taking in guests had been Mrs Jackson's idea, and though he'd admit that the house was big enough, and the money from renting out the spare bedrooms was right welcome in the months before the sheep went to market, he'd never been happy having to talk to the quality when he came home of an evening. The Walkers were different though. Aye, they were quality sure enough and they had some right queer notions - imagine those children being let to go off anywheres in that old dinghy of his, at the ages they were when they first came - but they didn't have their noses in the air like most of the summer folk and they'd always been friendly to him and the Missus. Well, they had their ways and maybe not such bad ways they were. He dredged his memory and came up with something from the summer of '30. "You wouldn't hardly be just a passenger, Mum, what with you being Queen Elizabeth, if I mind it straight?"

Mother chuckled again, and Titty's delighted laugh pealed out over the water. "So you were!" she said, "And we sang _Spanish Ladies_ to you as we sailed away on our first voyage to the mysterious island. Oh, thanks ever so much for reminding me, Mr Jackson! Wasn't it splendid?"

"It certainly was," said Mother, "And I was especially pleased when, before you crowned me as Queen Elizabeth, you said that it didn't matter a bit about me not having red hair."

Mr Jackson forgot his reticence enough to laugh at that, and raised his mug to toast Mother as she stood and curtseyed elaborately. John took advantage of the distraction to top up his own mug, but then a surprising voice rang out.

"Two bottles is enough, John Walker, so don't be sneaking any more! A Captain has to set a sober example to his crew, as I'm sure you get told a hundred times a week."

Startled, John looked over to where Nancy sat, her long legs curled demurely under herself, on one of Beckfoot's old tartan picnic rugs. Why was she suddenly lecturing him about alcohol? After all it hadn't been _his_ idea to filch that bottle of claret from the _Sea Bear_'s hidden store and vanish for an afternoon to drink it... although it had turned out to be a very pleasant day, and the others had never wondered too much where they'd been.

Nancy met his eyes and winked.

Captain Flint - who'd drunk seven ales himself but what the hell, he had more hold space for it and besides he needed some hair of the dog, damn that Ransome - swayed to his feet and picked up a handful of bottles. Mary Walker was a fine woman, and Captain Walker - he smiled as he remembered meeting that thin, hard and humorous man - was damn lucky to have her. He'd never presume to offer her his affection, but she accepted his beer - and his friendship - and that would do for him. He could admire her from afar.

Jackson? A bloody good fellow. When the children of his summer guest had wrecked his boat he'd have been quite entitled to call an end to all sailing adventures. That would have been a small thing for Jackson - and maybe a relief for Mary Walker - but a disaster for Jim's young friends. He held out a bottle. "Have another, Jackson. I can't ever tell you how much you've earned it." The farmer looked questioningly at Mother, who smiled and nodded.

"We're all friends here, Mr Jackson, and you don't have to ask _my_ approval. And as for what Mr Turner said, yes, my children will be forever in your debt. They're not the Walker children any more, you know; they're the Swallows, and _Swallow_ is your boat! I drink your health, Mr Jackson, and you're not required to return the toast in tea. Between us we can row straight enough back down the lake, eh?"

Mr Jackson took the bottle from Captain Flint, then nodded to Mother. "Aye. You've been right good to us all these years, and it's been a pleasure having you." He tipped out the dregs of his tea, opened the bottle and filled his mug with beer. "She's my boat, Mum, but she were just a toy for the summer folk and a fishing boat for me. Your children made her a ship. I was that happy for her, Mrs Walker, when she raced the Blackett lasses in '31 and skimmed in home as winner. Tell you what? I'm a sheep farmer, and boats is nothing to me (Titty cringed at this blasphemy) but you and yours made me right proud of _Swallow_."

John looked at Nancy. Nancy looked at John. Titty looked at both the Captains and wondered that they had nothing to say. And then, drawing up her courage, Peggy filled in for her silent skipper. "We're all proud of _Swallow_, Mr Jackson. She's a fine ship, and the best partner _Amazon_ could have ever had." Peggy raised her mug - as befitted a 16 year old Mate it contained one part beer and three parts lemonade - and toasted the farmer. Mr Jackson gravely lifted his mug in return. The Blackett lasses? Not as black as they were painted, not by a long shot. Welcome for tea at Holly Howe any time, they were.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

**Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Colonel, the former cat of 111 MI Section, Intelligence Corps. Born in late 2004, Colonel joined the Section in August 2007 and quickly became a popular and respected member of the unit. Swiftly taking charge of the Junior NCO's accommodation he set and maintained a remarkable standard of cleanliness, particularly with regard to excess food. Following the wishes of the Commanding Officer he also took effective steps to reduce the soldiers' consumption of unhealthy snacks such as hamburgers and kebabs, which he selflessly disposed of at great risk to his own life. On leaving the Army he voluntarily shouldered the responsibility of patrolling the grounds around his new home, and ensuring that all dogs, children and vehicles behaved in a manner that met his high standards. He died at his post of natural causes on 14 June 2012, doing his duty to his last breath.**

**You never let us down, Colonel. Sleep well, old friend.**

Time went by, as time did on Wild Cat Island, with surprising speed. Eventually Mother looked at her wristwatch. "Well, Mr Jackson, it's half past four; time to see if we can row in a straight line. Bridget will be ready for her supper by the time we get to Holly Howe, and if Titty and Roger want to race to the head of the lake and back before dark they'll need to be getting under way quite soon."

Captain Flint heaved himself up. "I'll row some of the way with you, Mrs Walker," he said. As good as it had been to sit here talking, it was time to go now. Plans had been made. They'd be visiting Timothy and Slater Bob at the copper mine when the Callums came, racing the whole length of the lake and back with three boats and probably spending many enjoyable evenings on his old houseboat. For now, though, the six young people should be left to settle back into their camp and their lives together. Those lives were limited by school and - soon - careers, and their holidays were precious to them. As much as he enjoyed their company he had to leave them to their own.

When the last goodbyes had been said and the two rowing boats were beyond hailing distance, the Swallows and Amazons got back to the business of island life.

For the Mates, this meant organising supper; their cooking abilities had advanced far beyond buttered eggs and pemmican sandwiches, and they were planning a hotpot of diced lamb, onions, carrots and potatoes. Susan had brought a large tin of Bisto gravy powder with her and thought she might as well try it out straight away. Of course the fresh meat wouldn't be good past tomorrow and pemmican would be back on the menu, but it could also be diced and thrown in the pot with vegetables. There would be fish as well, perch fresh from the lake, and Nancy had talked about snaring rabbits in the woods above Beckfoot. If Dick and Dorothea could cook a rabbit it was pretty certain that Susan and Peggy could, too.

The two Able Seamen, of course, were eager to start their race. Although they'd both handled _Swallow_ often enough, under the careful supervision of John and Susan, this was the first time they would be let loose on the lake alone. Perhaps that this was so was unfair, John mused. After all Roger was as old as he'd been himself when he's skippered _Swallow_ that first summer, and the fact was he'd had far less sailing experience then than Roger had now. Well, Mother hadn't seemed too worried so he supposed he shouldn't be either. How Susan would feel might be a different story, of course, but even she would have to respect how well Titty and Roger had handled that hellish night on the _Goblin_ as the gale blew them out to sea.

Titty was nervous. Not about the race, of course - it was the taking part that mattered, not the winning, and anyway she was sure she could beat Roger - but about the choice of boat. She was the only one of the Swallows who'd ever been alone in _Amazon_, but even so she couldn't imagine not racing in _Swallow_.

Both the Captains understood that, of course. As the four of them walked to the harbour Nancy asked, "So, Roger, are you alright with _Amazon_'s centreboard?"

"Of course I am!" Roger said indignantly. "It's not hard, is it? Down for tacking and reaching, up for more speed with the wind astern. And remember, I skippered _Scarab_ last year."

"Alright, Roger," she laughed. "You know when to use the centreboard. I'll just show you how _Amazon_'s tackle works, then. It's not difficult, pretty much the same as _Scarab_'s."

Ten minutes later the two Able Seamen, having sculled their ships out of the harbour, were hoisting their sails out on the lake. As agreed, John and Nancy stood on the rocks on the very southern tip of Wild Cat Island, waiting for the two dinghies to begin sailing, circle round and approach the start line, which they had decided would be the line between themselves and the southern end of Cormorant Island. Titty had _Swallow_'s sail up first, and brought her round along the shore of the island. Roger, delayed by an unexpected hitch with _Amazon_'s centreboard tackle, made up time with a good tight turn and cruised, bow level with his sister's, towards the line. The wind had changed direction an hour ago and now blew from the south, and both little ships, sheets let well out, already had bones in their teeth as they ran back up towards the harbour.

John, Susan's whistle in his mouth, watched them come. He saw Roger cast off the centreboard tackle, ready to lift the iron blade and let _Amazon_ run. Titty had hitched a rope to _Swallow_'s tiller, and now held on to it as she hurried forward and tightened the halyard slightly. The three long vertical wrinkles in _Swallow_'s sail smoothed out and she picked up a bit of speed. Roger, glancing between the islands, raised _Amazon_'s centreboard a quarter of the way and matched her. The two ships ran on towards the line.

There were perhaps ten seconds to go now. John looked at Nancy and asked, "So, within a half length, do you think?" That was the standard they'd all agreed on: if either ship was more than half a length - seven feet - in front as they crossed the line, John would blow three blasts on the whistle and they'd have to circle round and start again. As the race would cover a distance of close to eleven miles - more like fifteen, really, as they'd be tacking all the way down from the North Pole to the southern tip of the lake - both skippers felt that half a length was a reasonable margin of error at the start line.

"John, _Swallow_'s maybe a yard ahead and Roger's closing it nicely. You've trained your ABs rather well, haven't you?"

John smiled at her. "You've helped, Nancy. Anyway, here we go…" He fixed his gaze on Cormorant Island and watched as the ships ran towards the line. Yes, there they came and _Amazon_'s bow was forward of _Swallow_'s mast. Less than two feet in it, he guessed as he blew a single long blast to signal that the race was on; perhaps they were trained well enough. Anyway. He turned to Nancy and said, "Well, they're off. How much shall _Swallow_ win by?"

She smiled. "She might just win, you know. _Amazon_ can beat her every time at tacking because she can sail closer to the wind, and that's going to help Roger on the southern leg. She's also better at a straight run, like they're doing now, although there's not much in it there. It's not just the ship that matters, though. I think Roger's the better sailor now, but Titty _cares_ more. She won't be sailing to beat Roger; she'll be sailing to help _Swallow_ win."

John nodded. He'd often thought himself that of all the Swallows, Titty was the only one who loved the little dinghy as much as he did himself. His first command, and the one he'd always remember. "You might be right, Nancy," he said. "Caring about it matters." He looked away across the lake for a moment, then asked, "So, back to the camp?"

She laughed. "Oh no," she said, "Susan and Peggy are busy with some dreadful discussion about cooking, and you know they'd just ask us to peel potatoes for them. Let's stay in the harbour and skylark for a bit. It's always been a special place for me."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry about the delay, my life has busy moments. As ever, I don't own the characters; I hope AR wouldn't have minded me borrowing them for a while.**

Nancy reclined - rather elegantly, she thought - beneath the lower marker. When John retrieved the bottle of champagne from among the rocks she laughed and asked, "So, what are we celebrating, Commodore?"

"It's not Commodore any more, Nancy, it's Midshipman. I've passed my exams and qualified for sea training, and after all these years you seem like the obvious person to celebrate that with. Hang on, just let me get the glasses, I hid them here earlier too…"

She laughed. "If you hid them too well, John, just take a look in that bush." She pointed. "You'll find two champagne flutes there, wrapped in a towel. You might want to check around the rock where Titty saw the dipper, too."

John raised an eyebrow. "Am I not the only one who's been hiding things here, then?"

Nancy smiled at him. "You're on your feet, Mr Midshipman Walker, so why don't you go and see?"

John finally managed to find his two glasses - also wrapped in a towel - then walked along the edge of the harbour to the rock Nancy meant. The dipper wasn't here today, and indeed nobody had seen it except Titty on that one occasion years ago, although she'd told them all about it and showed them where the little bird had stood and bowed at her. It was perhaps three feet from the shore, and just in front of it, under the water, he could see a submerged cloth bag. He reached out and retrieved it, and it gave a glassy chink as he lifted it from the water. He felt it carefully. Yes, it contained a champagne bottle and what appeared to be a large stone.

He walked back to Nancy holding his bottle, the rolled towel and the dripping bag. "So are you celebrating the end of school in style?" he asked.

Nancy smiled and patted the grass beside her. "Sit down, John, and get one of those open. I think we should keep the second one for another day, though, especially after that beer you had."

He laughed as he sat down. "So _that's_ why you went all Susanish on me! I did wonder. It didn't seem like you somehow."

"Well, we know that a bottle of wine between us leaves both a bit taken aback, and of course champagne is bubbly, which isn't going to help." She extracted the bottle from the bag and laid it on the grass beside John's, then wiped her wet hand on her breeches. "Which one shall we open, Mr Midshipman?"

John frowned at the two bottles, contemplating the problem. "Well, yours is a Moët & Chandon 1932, while mine is only a Moët & Chandon 1932. I'd say that yours is clearly the superior vintage, don't you think?"

She laughed and raised a hand to hit him, then dredged up a reserve of ladylike decorum from somewhere and lowered it to her lap again. "Damn it John, just open one! And don't get all showy with the cork. This isn't the end of a cutter race at Britannia, it's a celebration for us… for you."

"For us, Nancy. A celebration for us. Here, can you hold the glasses now…" He stripped the foil from a bottle and twisted off the wire binding, then eased the cork out with a discreet pop. A wisp of vapour curled from the mouth of the bottle. The wine fizzed and sparkled as it flowed into the two glasses Nancy held up for him, like the bone in the teeth of a good boat. A reckless instinct made him fill the flutes until the foam lapped at the rims, then he carefully stood the bottle on a level patch and took a glass. Nancy gently chinked her own against it and smiled. "To Mister Midshipman John Walker, may he have fair winds and blue water."

John sipped the sharp champagne and Nancy followed suit, looking directly into his eyes over the rim of her glass. When she lowered it John chinked rims in turn and said solemnly, "To Commodore Nancy Blackett, may she rule the Main with our - her - fleet."

Nancy's smile broadened into that old grin. "Why thank you, John. I'll drink to that," - they did - "and I resign. Susan is Commodore now."

John's mouth dropped open. She'd fought hard to win command of the fleet - _Swallow_ and _Amazon_, and later _Scarab _too - and although the Swallows had triumphed it had always been understood that Nancy was second in command. And now, when he'd handed her the title, she resigned? Of course that had been back in 1930, and she was growing up as fast as he was himself, but really…

Nancy's grin spread wider at his confusion. She raised her glass again. "To Mr Midshipman John Walker and Miss Midshipman Nancy Blackett. May we make the Navy our new lake."

John's jaw dropped further and he stuttered in confusion. "But Nancy… really…"

"Drink, and I'll tell you. Honest sailor!" She touched glasses. "The Midshipmen, John." She waited for him to echo her, "The Midshipmen," then drank. "Now, John, you have some questions for me I believe?"

John frowned slightly. "Well yes, I do. What are you talking about? I mean… I _hate_ it, because I know what a good sailor you are and honestly Nancy, you're a born leader, but girls can't join the Navy."

"Well, have you heard of the Women's Royal Naval Service? Five hundred women were Naval officers during the Great War, and five thousand more were ratings. It was disbanded in 1919 of course, because, well, women can't do a _man's_ job" - her smile turned vicious for a moment and John winced - "but they're looking to windward for once and wondering how to expand the Navy. If war comes again - and it might, you know, if Hitler stays in power - the WRNS may be reformed. But the Admiralty want to test the system, so in October a Division of twenty women will begin training at Britannia. And one of them will be me."

He stared at her, saw from her eyes that she was telling the truth and exclaimed, "Nancy! But that's… that's super! You'll really be at Britannia?"

She nodded. "Yes, I will. We'll be doing a basic drill and duties course, then some sea training - not so much, of course, because we're all bound for shore jobs, damn it - and finally specialist training. I'm hoping for Intelligence or Operations. But yes, I shall be at Britannia."

John smiled, slightly dazed at the thought. Nancy, at the College… why, he'd see her every time his ship came in. When he wasn't at sea - and there would be plenty time he wasn't at sea, because much of an officer's training took place in a classroom - he might see her every day. Ever since he'd known Nancy they'd been restricted to holidays and letters. But now, why, he might see her for as much as six months of the year!

Impulsively he took her hand, and as her fingers gripped his in return memories of the other time rose up. Sitting together side by side, high above the loch where Dick's birds had nested, with a tin mug and the pilfered bottle of Captain Flint's claret between them. Somehow as he'd reached for the mug his fingers had touched hers, then their hands had entwined and he'd been looking into the fire of her eyes.

Her smile warmed, and her eyes held him again. "Your father suggested it, John. I'd written to him because… well, because I wanted to, and he replied and told me that the Navy was looking for young ladies to take experimental commissions. He asked if I was interested and I said, of course. Well, I was hardly going to refuse _that_ sort of offer, was I?"

"He never said a word to me. He didn't even mention that you were writing to each other. I suppose I was a bit surprised when you mentioned it earlier, but it was so good to see you again that really I forgot about it."

She chuckled. "Well, you'd better not forget it again. Not that you'll have a chance to come October, of course. The women's Division will be attached to a regular one for shore training because it's so small, and some strings may be pulled to make sure that that Division is yours. Your father certainly has a sense of humour. Look." She reached into the pocket of her breeches and pulled out a creased sheet of paper, which she handed to John.

John unfolded the paper and scanned it quickly. It appeared to be an estate agent's listing for a small two-bedroomed bungalow. The address was in Redwall's Meadow, Dartmouth - right beside the Naval College. He looked up. "He sent you this?"

Nancy nodded. "Yes, he did. In fact he suggested it would be an ideal time to buy it, with prices as low as they are. Young Naval officers should settle close to the College, he said, so when they come back for courses they can live at home. What do you think?"

He frowned again. "Well, I don't know. If Father says it's a good price I'm sure it is, but still, the mortgage would be a bit much on a Midshipman's pay."

She threw her head back and her laugh rang out again. "Oh John! How about on two Midshipmen's pay?" She leaned towards him. "Listen, if I buy a house I'll be buying it together with you. Do you have _any_ idea how often Aunt Maria has asked Mother if I've found a suitable young man yet and if I've stopped associating with that awful Walker boy? With a recommendation like that, how could I let you go? I know you; I've watched you for years. I've never told you this before, but I admire the way you think things through instead of just charging in like I do. But sometimes my way's better, John, and I know that however much you want to do this - and I know you _do_ - you'll never quite get there on your own. So just get it over with and ask me to marry you."


End file.
